This is the fifth essay in a series about our golden anniversary, a Year of Jubilee. I’ve discussed how we fell in love, the things we learned while making a home, and the importance of covenant-keeping. These essays roughly parallel the decades we have shared. This final essay is about how and why it works. And where we have arrived.
Therefore, welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God. Romans 15:7
Over the years, Katie and I have learned to welcome others. We might set a bottle of water and some glasses in the room where they will sleep. We set a nice table, often with flowers. We check on their food preferences and allergies. We anticipate their needs and cater to their taste. We ask questions about their past and the future they desire.
Fortunately, we have also learned to welcome each other. That may seem strange, as we’ve been married for 50 years. But we are not tired of each other. There is still joy when we begin each day together—perhaps more joy. And every day, we discover new things about each other’s needs, tastes, and dreams. There is still mystery. And there is still wonder.
The Old English word for welcome meant a “comer” who was “willed”, desired and pleasing. This requires more than fresh flowers, although I do buy her flowers often, and such practical expressions are necessary. Welcome, however, expresses a sense of warmth and pleasure. And the key to this welcome one another as Christ has welcomed us. Christ welcomed us fully knowing and accepting our weaknesses and failures. He welcomed us sacrificially and joyfully, setting aside his own glory. And he welcomed us with warm and generous love.
Any Christian marriage is grounded in this gospel truth: He forgave much, so we can forgive much. He set aside his just anger so we can set aside our petty ones. He delights in giving us expected joys and listening to our prayers. His mercies are new every morning. This is what genuine welcome looks like, seeing each other with fresh eyes as fully forgiven sons and daughters of a merciful and just God.
Certainly we can do this with strangers, even though they are clearly different, even though the situation is uncertain, or even though they are annoying. They may be a different color or wear different clothes or speak a different language. They may raise their children differently or refuse the food we offer. They may vote for different candidates. But with patience and grace, we can make them feel welcome.
Yet it is with our spouse we learn to do this best, and perhaps how to do it better with others. We learn how to do it as God, for Christ’s sake, has welcomed us. To bend the grace we have received out toward our spouse gets us through the rough spots. And it makes the good days better. To welcome our spouse as Christ welcomed us is to do so without conditions or recrimination. No healthy marriage thrives by keeping score, keeping a list of slights and wrongs.
The gospel alone helps us extend grace in this way. I’m not saying Katie and I have no issues to resolve, or that every conversation is easy. I’m just saying we don’t start with a list of nonnegotiable demands or unreasonable expectations. This requires forgiving each other—a lot. And it often requires forgiving ourselves, which we can only do because God has forgiven us completely and unconditionally.
So, we learn to help and encourage each other, to forgive each other, and to welcome each other so that:
The God of endurance and encouragement grant you to live in such harmony with one another, in accord with Christ Jesus, that together you may with one voice glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. (Romans 15:5–6)
Welcoming each other is a discipline, of course. We don’t always get it right, although it’s safe to say we’re getting better at it. Fifty years into this, we continue learning about each other, about our fears and desires, about our weaknesses and our strengths. About the preferences and needs of someone who is changing every day.
Katie says she has learned not to focus on the little things I do, like putting my clothes next to the laundry hamper and not in it. There’s a long list of such things she chooses to forget so she can focus on my forgiving easily and adapting effortlessly. I can overlook the list she keeps in her head of all the things we have to do before we can do the thing I thought we were going to do next. Instead, I focus on her virtue and strength. And beauty: my heart still leaps when I pick her out in a crowd.
By doing this, I wake up each morning beside a woman I love more and know better. And I welcome the opportunity to spend another day with her, grateful for all the times she has overlooked my weaknesses, forgiven my failures, and been patient with my idiosyncrasies.
We came from different cultures, me the firstborn son of a southern preacher and her the seventh child of a midwestern pump and well man. Her mother was a Germanic stoic, and mine an empathic animal lover. We like different music and different foods. Her first experience with my childhood diet, including swamp cabbage and fried fish with grits, was memorable, to say the least. We had to learn that different was not wrong.
But our real problems were deeper than that. We were both self-centered sinners, crippled by doubt and pride. Misunderstandings multiplied. Anger often simmered. And yet, Christ welcomes us, over and over, day after day, humbly and graciously.
This is how we live in harmony with each other. And this is how we glorify God.
In this fifth decade of our marriage, we have been learning to do that.
the daysman 